I was aware that Governor Luis Muñoz Marin and his wife were being honored at a state dinner, but I couldn’t figure out what this had to do with whether I enjoyed music.
“And why is that, Mrs. Kennedy?”
“We’re going to have a very special after-dinner concert. Pablo Casals, who is perhaps the world’s greatest cellist, has agreed to play for us. He hasn’t played in the United States in thirty-three years. Isn’t that exciting?”
Her subtle enthusiasm was contagious. “I’m sure it will be fantastic,” I said. “I guess I better take my tuxedo to be dry-cleaned.”
On November 13, 1961, I did wear my tuxedo, and while I wasn’t an invited guest, I did stand at the back of the East Room when eighty-four-year-old Pablo Casals played the cello, accompanied by pianist Mieczyslaw Horszowski and violinist Alexander Schneider, in what was the most moving concert I had ever heard.
Being able to showcase the very best talent in the world to emphasize the importance of the arts was one of Mrs. Kennedy’s favorite things to do, and she was very successful at getting the most sought-after performers to come to the White House. For this spectacular evening, she and the president had invited people who truly appreciated this once-in-a-lifetime chance to hear Casals perform in the United States. The guest list included composers Leonard Bernstein; Aaron Copland; Eugene Ormandy; and Leopold Stokowski; as well as Henry Ford II; Thomas J. Watson, the founder of IBM; oil tycoon Edwin Pauley; and Alice Roosevelt Longworth, the daughter of President Theodore Roosevelt, who had been in attendance the last time Casals played at the White House in 1904. Thus it was not just Casals himself, but also the collection of guests that made the night so memorable. I was privileged to have been one of them.
Mrs. Kennedy was in her glory and as usual, she looked ravishing. It was a white-tie event and everyone in the room was dressed in their most formal attire, but Mrs. Kennedy stood out among everyone with the way she carried herself, and the smile that lit up her face the entire evening.
There had been a lot of publicity surrounding Casals’s performance at the White House, and while Mrs. Kennedy thoroughly enjoyed the event, when it was over she was eager to get out of Washington. So the next day we headed to Middleburg, for a few days at Glen Ora.
Still beaming from the success of the Casals performance, Mrs. Kennedy had a stack of newspapers she brought with her. As I drove, she sat in the front passenger seat and read some excerpts of the rave reviews to me.
“It really was a marvelous evening, Mrs. Kennedy,” I said. “You should be very proud of what you’ve accomplished.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hill,” she said with a smile. “I’m so glad that you were able to enjoy the evening. I know it wasn’t the same as if you had been a guest, because you were working, but I wouldn’t have wanted you to miss such a special experience.”
“I do appreciate that, Mrs. Kennedy. That’s very thoughtful of you.”
“I hope you know that I appreciate everything you do for me, Mr. Hill. You’ve certainly changed my view of the Secret Service.”
ON FRIDAY MORNING, November 17, I drove Mrs. Kennedy from Glen Ora to ride with the Piedmont Hunt, while her horse Bit of Irish was transported by trailer.
It had been a long time since she’d ridden and she was excited to be back in the Virginia hunt country. Dressed in jodhpurs, a blazer, and boots, with not a stitch of makeup on, she looked even more beautiful than she had in her fancy gown at the Casals concert. This was the Mrs. Kennedy I had come to know—at ease and comfortable in her own skin, away from the public eye.
“We might have quite a long ride today,” she said. “I’ll be joining everyone for the hunt breakfast when we are through so I may be longer than usual.”
“That’s fine, Mrs. Kennedy. Just enjoy yourself and I’ll catch up with you when you’re ready to leave.”
Behind her, the riders were assembling, as the hounds scattered around barking. I noticed the handler seemed to be having a bit of difficulty with her horse.
“Bit of Irish looks anxious to go,” I added. “Be careful out there.”
She glanced at the horse and said, “Oh, he can be a handful, but I’ll be in control. Don’t worry, Mr. Hill.” Then she broke into a grin and said, “You be careful driving over all that rough terrain trying to keep up with me!”
I laughed and watched as she walked toward the rest of the riders who had gathered in the meadow.
“Good morning, Jackie!” they called. “So great to see you!”
“Good morning!” she replied. She was so relaxed in this environment. Here she was just another rider in the Hunt Club. They didn’t treat her any differently than anyone else, and that is what she loved. Here she could shed the first-lady moniker and just be Jackie.
I watched as she put her foot into the stirrup and mounted the horse. Then I drove the station wagon to place myself in a position where I could observe the group as they started on their ride across the rolling hills of the Mellon property. The whips were cracking, the hounds were yelping, and I wondered how the hell they thought they could sneak up on a fox with all that racket.
The riders set out along the course for the day and one by one they would jump over the rail fences and hedges at various points. Mrs. Kennedy loved to jump, and she was very good at it. I drove slowly along the country roads trying to keep the group in sight, but it wasn’t always easy.
Things were going along
